Hero
by MFox241
Summary: Oneshot. Takes place between seasons 3 and 4. After hitting rock bottom, Tony is paid a visit by an old friend. My first ever fanfic, advice is greatly appreciated.


**Well, this is my first ever fanfic, ever. Just something which started out as drabble and became a little fic. **

**I actually was quite disappointed with it after I wrote it, but I didn't want it to go to waste. There are so many things that didn't go the way I wanted to, so I ask for your guys' suggestions. So I decided to post it here so I could get some constructive criticism. **

**Keep in mind that the grammar isn't the best since this was written at two in the morning and I was too lazy to proofread. :)  
**

The eerie silence had fallen, but it was the suddenness that had startled her the most. Or perhaps it had always been there, but now she had just paid enough attention to realize it. Her eyes scanned back over the paper Chloe O'Brien had given her. Was this even the right place? Apparently so. But she didn't want to believe it.

The loud clang of metal, and although she had pushed the car door closed herself, very deliberately in fact, had further startled her as her clicking heels on the pavement broke the silence.

She paused, backpack slung on one shoulder, a small index card with the address in her other hand. Her hair, thick and wavy, uncharacteristically brought up in an unnecessarily tight and unnecessarily high ponytail. The leather of her boots, underneath her denim jeans matched the leather of her jacket. Her blue eyes coated with the essence of forming tears, squeezed themselves shut. She paused for a minute, registering her surroundings.

She had parked her care by a street light, which provided the only source of light on the street. In the distance, the faint, barely audible whines of a siren in the distance could be heard, and the faint whispers of people around the corner of the street, most likely those which could be tied to an illegal transaction – she'd bet on that – was all that could be heard. She forced her eyes to look forward.

The sight of the apartment building and its dim features; it had the power to make her depressed some how. Or perhaps it was simply depressing to think that someone so high, so respected, so proud, so dedicated, could actually fall this low. With a sharp intake of breath, almost as if continuing would be too painful, she walked on, her heels clicking softly with every step.

Nervousness had only hit her by the time she had started walking up the stairs of the building. She was actually going to do this. When she had asked Chloe for the address, Chloe had initially been surprised for a reason she didn't know why. Eventually, with a kind of bitterness she had gotten to know all too well, Chloe looked it up, scribbled it down, and gave it to her, but not without regarding her carefully, in a way which had made her puzzled.

Now broken from her thoughts, she becomes aware that she had been standing at his door for several minutes and hadn't even realized it. Or perhaps she had and forced herself not to. Her inability to read her own thoughts was becoming amusing to even her now.

45B. She did one last double-check on the paper. This was it. A kind of unfamiliar sensation in the pit of her stomach had bubbled up and begun to crawl into her throat.

Softly, with the kind of caution one would have when handling an expensive piece of china over to a small child, she knocked on the door. Silence was her only answer.

Part of her wanted to leave, telling herself that there was nothing she could do. That this was a bad idea to begin with, but nevertheless, she knocked on the door once again, a little louder this time.

Silence again answered her, yet somehow, to her ears, it had been a little louder, a little more impatient than it had the last time.

Slowly, cautiously, and almost even timidly, she pushed the door open. The room was dimly lighted, but lighted enough so she could see what she was doing, where she was going.

She stepped one foot inside, about to turn back. But that was when she had caught sight of him.

Tony.

And God, did he look terrible. She winced at the sight. His hair was unkempt, he looked like he was in desperate need of a shower, and she could see several scars and bruises staining his olive-tone skin.

He was sitting back on the couch, half-awake, staring blankly at the wall, his profile facing her. For a moment, she had thought that perhaps he hadn't seen her; perhaps she could still go back…

He muttered her name. Something he had done many times before, but for some reason, it held such a great impact on her now. He had slurred his words together, not even looking back to see if it was indeed her there. He just knew, with turning to look, that it was her. And somehow, it gave her a slight sense of hope knowing that his old skills as a trained agent hadn't died … entirely.

"Hi," she whispered in hoarse voice, and then cleared her throat. Hi? Was that all she could say? Why couldn't she tell him what she had really wanted to? But then again, she wasn't even sure what she had wanted to say. She wasn't even sure why she was here.

"Why are you here, Kim?" It wasn't rude, but it was far from accommodating. She shifted uncomfortably, playing with her engagement ring, unsure of how to reply.

Her eyes scanned the rest of the room. The stench of vomit was too strong to ignore, but she tried anyway. Beer bottles were tossed about like decorations on Christmas Eve, and the jolly feeling was replaced with bitter sorrow. The place was small; and to describe it as untidy would be an understatement. His eyes, when she got a better look at his face, she saw that they were empty. And that frightened her. He was broken. Beyond words. So far from what he used to be. He used to be her hero. He still is.

In a way, it was silly of her to proclaim him as her hero when there were so many more obvious heroes in her life whose lives' sole goal was to protect her. But somehow Tony was everything she wasn't, everything everybody else wasn't. And she respected him for that. It was hard to put it into words, but in a way, when all else had failed she looked up to him. She didn't think he knew that.

And as if on cue, the familiar sensation of stinging tears had returned. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

"Look," Tony said quietly, as if not wanting to be heard, "I don't mean to be a rude host…" he cut himself off. He finally turned around to face her, almost as if waiting her to finish his sentence for him.

Silence was his only answer.

He sighed, giving up on what he was trying to say and asked, a little more confidently – not a whole lot more, but a little, and that was something – "You want something to drink?"

Dumbly, she nodded her head, without saying a word. She was still trying to recover from how low he had fallen. The last time she saw him, well, the last time she saw him he was being led away to prison, but even then he had been in better shape.

Now he's a free man. And she thought for sure that the first time she sees him as a free man he'd have the same heroic spirit that she had admired him for the first time they had met. But now, as she stands in his doorway, she's unsure of what to think.

He finally got up, and limped over to the fridge, took out a can of coke and placed it on the coffee table next to her. She still stood in the doorway, one side leaning against the frame, arms crossed securely at her chest. The tears were stinging more than ever.

He stood before her for a few seconds, in a typical Tony pose. Weight shifted to one said, hands on his hips, jaw set. The familiarity almost made her smile. Almost. At least he wasn't entirely gone.

He stood before her in silence, silence he had plunged himself in for a long time now. She took the initiative and broke the silence herself.

"Why…" her voice cracked, "Why didn't you come to us? Why – why didn't you… why didn't you come to me?" She shifted awkwardly and looked to the floor quietly saying, "We could've helped..."

Tony looked at her at first like she was crazy. Then he let out a bitter laugh. Her expression didn't change, however, she continued to look straight at his face – not his eyes, however; she avoided his eyes.

"How?" he challenged hoarsely with a fiery kind of angry that hid behind his whispery voice. "Tell me, Kim, how would you have helped me?" He didn't need to state everything that was wrong with his life right now, he was sure she knew.

His wife left him, he can't find a job, no one wants anything to do with him, and frankly, he doesn't want much to do with himself. And that was only the beginning of things.

She fumbled, "I… I don't know. But, it can get better, Tony." She looked up with a kind of confidence that she didn't understand, "It _will_ get better."

He gave her a mirthless smile and touched her face a in a patronizing gesture and abruptly changed the subject. "You should probably go. I don't think your Dad wants you around here, and quite frankly and can't blame him"

"This isn't about him," Kim's voice was now stern, clearly remembering the way he told Kim that there was nothing she could do for Tony. "It's about you. Why did you give up Tony? Why do you continue to give up?"

Tony sighed and sat back down on the couch. "You don't want to get yourself involved in this Kim, trust me. Just forget about it and go home."

In reality, he wanted company more than he could describe, but for what? So he could ruin every person who had the good intentions to help him? He'd run Kim into the ground, and although she has been through much, her innocence barely existing now, he still wanted to keep her away from the shadows of the world. And he felt bad for feeling like this, she wasn't his, she belonged to Jack, but somehow, he felt the need to protect her, seeing as she was the only who hadn't given up on him yet.

He paused searching for the right words. "You can't help me."

The conversation was over. She knew it. She knew he was right. How could she help him when he didn't even want to help himself? When everyone else has given up on him?

Gathering her composure, she wiped away her tears as his back was faced to her. Softly and unsurely, she walked towards him, placing a small, child-like kiss on his cheek whispering, "Maybe you have, Tony, but I haven't given up on you yet."

She picked up her stuff and quietly left his apartment without turning back. As soon as she got back to her car, the tears were let loose.

Kim Bauer looked up to the sky and, although she was never really religious, she looked up to the sky and waited. Waited for some kind of sign, something to tell her that her hero could be saved for the first time in his life. So that he could save other again. So he could be her hero again.

Silence was her only answer.

**Well, there it is. **

**Personally, I didn't like it but I didn't know what to do with it, so I posted it here so maybe someone else could tell what to do better next time. **

**Please hit me with feedback!**


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